Yes, she had pushed him once, but did she really deserve this treatment?
She felt her mood dip, despite herself. She should have been angry. Bloodcurdlingly angry. So angry that she should have stormed right down to his house (wherever it was) and told his new girlfriend a few home truths. But she wasn’t angry. The anger had redirected itself back towards herself into a thick treacle of despair. It made her just want to duvet dive; to sofa-surf; to hide behind a series of box sets and TV dramas. Depression. That was the word. She was depressed. The doctor prescribed her tablets which took away the can’t breathe feeling and made her feel like she was sinking down through the carpet.
Depressed.
God, where are you? When are you going to make things better for me, please?
Perhaps God did have something in mind, but not what she expected.
Chapter Fifteen
It didn’t make sense to Sasha that she was still feeling so down after all this time. Surely she should have moved on by now? It had been well over a year since they’d split up. Surely she should be dressing up in gorgeous clothes and high heels, stepping out on dates with eligible bachelors, clinking champagne glasses and being treated to fancy meals?
But the truth was, she seemed to be getting worse, not better. The emptiness engulfed her. The silence. The absence of any emails from him whatsoever. The nothingness. There was just nothing, like a blank canvas; nothing to look back on, nothing to look forward to.
Depression. That’s what it was called; according to her doctor, that is. Apathy, lack of energy, emptiness, nothingness. That, and the feeling that she couldn’t breathe. The feeling would come over her all of a sudden; the terrifying, shocking realisation that she couldn’t breathe; that the walls were closing in on her. The doctor prescribed her medication; a heavy dose of anti-depressants and an even heavier dose of beta-blockers, designed to slow down the heart rate.
Sasha knew she found it impossible to move on. If moving on meant dating other guys, then she just couldn’t do it. What if she opened her heart to someone new, only for it to be stamped all over again?
She compared her break-up with Kirk to a car accident. If it was, then she was still suffering. Metaphorically, she was still in hospital, bed-bound with the injuries. She was worn down by heartbreak and depression. If this was what one break-up had done to her, what would happen if she had to go through another? What if the next break-up completely finished her off? If Kirk was an accident, the next break-up could be a fatal collision.
Sometimes she caught glimpses of other girls, walking hand-in-hand with their partners, making it look so effortless and easy. How did they do it? How did they dance from one relationship to another, seemingly unharmed, while she, Sasha, crashed and burned?
Sasha had tried other dates since Kirk – of course she had. Coffee dates here and there; episodes where she had forced herself to try to move on. But dates with other guys just did not compare with Kirk. When she looked back on those early dates with Kirk, she reminisced at their chemistry, their connection, the way they laughed and joked and talked for ages, the humour, the fun, the laughter, the sex. It was as if, when Kirk came along, Sasha’s world lit up. Where previously it had been black and white, now her world jumped into colour. The hotel stays, the romantic meals in restaurants, the sex. Everything was new and exciting. But then, when that was ripped away from her, her world quickly went back to black and white.
The attempts at new dates just didn’t compare. The guys from the online dating forum all asked the same monotonous questions:
• Where do you live?
• What do you work at?
What do you think of online dating?
It was worse than black and white. It was hell.
The depression settled down like a thick layer of snow. She’d had too many months of trying to move on and failing miserably. What started as feeble positive attempts to start afresh, settled into apathetic depression and the failure to progress.
Life, which was once multi-coloured, was now grey. There was no hope.
And then there was the horrible night of the tablets.
She just wanted the pain to stop. So she took a couple of tablets. The pain relief didn’t kick in quickly enough, so she took a couple more. Then a couple more. Then a couple more. It wasn’t that she wanted to overdose. Really, she didn’t. But, lying there in a heap on the floor, full of tablets, her head sank into a woozy heaviness that made her feel like something out of the movie Trainspotting; as though she was sinking down through the floor.
After that, she slept.
Waking the next morning, her eyes adjusted slowly to the sight around her. She was lying on the carpet. She was still fully clothed. Her limbs ached. Her throat ached.
Everything ached.
It was a moment of clarity; a lightbulb moment; as though someone had reached inside her and flicked a switch.
Enough.
Enough is enough.
He has done enough damage. Too much. Are you really going to let him make you suffer like this? Are you going to make yourself this depressed? Is it really him that is making you feel like this or is it you who are allowing yourself to feel like this?
Enough!
She needed to do something, anything, to stop wallowing like this. She had to change.
And the only thing she had to change was her thoughts.
She decided to pray for him; like she’d do for a sick friend. Yes, he had treated her badly, but he was obviously a very sick person. He was full of fear and anxiety. His childhood had been terrible. His dad had abused his mum. He had a fear of relationships. He was just running scared.
She suspected that he had a drink problem; possibly he still had a drug problem. His emails had always come late at night, maybe when he was drunk or high, possibly when he was relaxed enough to reach out to her. And then, the next morning, in the cold light of day, in sobriety, his fear and anxiety would kick in.
She prayed for him every day, prayed to forgive him, forgive him for his fear and anxiety, let him go with love. She would have done anything to try to dislodge the iceberg of resentment that was causing depression in her.
The praying did help. As the weeks rolled by, she noticed that her resentment towards him began to melt, like a freezer left open to defrost.
Instead of feeling angry at him, she felt sorry for him; like pitying a sick child. The resentment had melted sufficiently by the time he emailed her again. It was in one of her moments of weakness that she found the email. What was the point of applying a filter to an email, if she went rooting around in the virtual bin to see if there were any deleted messages? It was the battle that went on in her head; ‘divert his emails to the bin’ and then, ‘check the bin to see if there’s any emails in there’. Ridiculousness, she knew. Insane, even. That was love. Both ridiculous and insane.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
I just found out today that my sister has been diagnosed with breast cancer. I am all over the place.
K x
Sasha stared at the screen in shock. Was this really happening? Was he really emailing her after all this time?
There was no apology; no, ‘I’m sorry for contacting you when I said I wouldn’t,’ no formal introductions, just splurging his news, his big news.
Sasha knew what would have been running through his head. He was in shock. He was distressed. He was reaching out to someone that he wanted comfort from. He was reaching out to her.
She told herself that it was endearing; that here he was, at a family emergency, and the first person he reached out to was her. The person he wanted comfort from was Sasha. The person he loved was Sasha.
Why wasn’t he reaching out to his new girlfriend?
Because he still loves me, that’s why, Sasha told herself.
Denial is a powerful thing, she thought, when she looked back at that episode. Denial had allowed her to tell herself all sorts of excuses for him;
that and praying for him. The praying had softened her heart; melted it like butter running over a hot potato.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Oh Kirk! That’s terrible news! I’m so sorry to hear this! My heart goes out to you. Is there anything I can do to help?
Sasha x x
Yet again she had replied immediately. Honestly, she thought, she really should learn to play it cool. But cool jumped out the window long ago, along with her self-esteem and self-respect.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Thanks Sasha. I really appreciate it. Maybe I’ll jump on a bus and come up to see you one day?
K x
Sasha held her breath. Really? After all this time he was really going to land on the doorstep?
It was that dream she had secretly harboured all this time, that fantasy that he would suddenly turn up proclaiming that he still loved her, stating that he was sorry, that he had made a big mistake; that he hadn’t stopped loving her, that he would always love her, that he couldn’t live without her. He would then get down on bended knee and produce a huge ring and everything would work out perfectly, like some romantic novel.
Except that this wasn’t a romantic novel, this was life; her life, and all she had was an email from him.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Yeah, that’d be cool. If I can be a listening ear or any help, I would like that.
Sasha x x
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Okay, great. How about next Thursday?
K x
Again Sasha took a sharp intake of breath. Was this really happening? Was he really making concrete plans to see her? After all this time? Sasha wouldn’t believe it until she actually opened the door and saw him standing there.
But, true to his word, he emailed the following week, confirming that he’d meet her in the train station on Thursday lunchtime.
Chapter Sixteen
“What would you do if Kirk landed on your doorstep and asked to get back with you?”
Sasha’s sister had asked her this several times over the previous year. It was as if she had a premonition: a visualisation that one day he’d come crawling back, his tail between his legs, his cap in hand, begging forgiveness.
It had always felt like an impossible dream, of course; something that would never happen. And yet, the plan was, that Kirk would be arriving in Belfast that day to see her. She didn’t know about the cap in hand bit, or the tail between the legs, but he’d be there, in one form or another, to see her.
Sasha wouldn’t believe it until she saw him with her own eyes. Until she saw him in the flesh, she wouldn’t believe that they were meeting after all this time.
She went for a short walk in the morning to get some fresh air. She had a spring in her step and joy in her heart. Perhaps her expectations were high. Perhaps she thought that this would be the final conclusion – when he would admit that he still loved her after all this time – that he still thought about her every day; that walking out on her was the biggest mistake of his life. It would be her happy ending; the two of them would walk off into the sunset, like something out of a romantic movie.
When she arrived at the café, she saw him sitting outside. He looked uber-cool with his sunglasses, his slicked-back hair, his tweed jacket. He was reading some intellectual book or other and smoking a roll-up cigarette.
She approached him and smiled shyly. “Hi.”
He looked up at her and his face lit up. “Wow!” he said, drinking her in. She stood in his glow, looking back at him, hardly believing that all this time had passed. He looked exactly the same. It felt exactly the same. It was as if no time had passed at all.
“Wow! You look amazing!” he repeated again. She basked in his praise; it was like a warm shaft of sunlight after a long period of darkness. They stayed like that for a moment, staring at each other, drinking each other in, as though time had stopped still. Eventually she broke the silence.
“Well, I’ll just get a coffee and come and join you,” she smiled.
He smiled back, nodding his head.
Joining him at the table, holding her coffee cup, she watched as he put his intellectual book in his bag and re-directed his body language towards her.
“Well, how are you doing?” she smiled.
“Aw… everything is so mental at home,” he said, in that familiar Dublin lilt. “My sister, my mum, everyone sick… ”
Sasha couldn’t help but notice that a nervous twitch was dancing on his face. He was nervous! About little old her! He was nervous.
In an odd way, it made her feel flattered. And it also made her feel calm. If he was nervous about meeting her, then surely she didn’t have anything to worry about. Surely it was going to be a civil conversation.
The initial small talk ensued; about his sister, about her illness.
But then Sasha started to feel chilly. The sun had dipped; Kirk had moved his sunglasses from his nose to up on top of his head and she was pulling her cardigan close around her. She reasoned that it would hardly be possible to have a relaxed cosy chat if they were both shivering with the cold.
She suggested instead that they go to the hotel next door. It had a comfy bar area where they could grab another coffee. It would be warm, and it had the plushest armchairs, that you could literally sink into.
As they walked into the hotel and passed the bar, Kirk said, “Oh, I’m looking at those beer pumps and I’m dying for a drink.”
“Have one, then,” Sasha shrugged.
So Kirk ordered a pint of beer, and when it arrived, he drooled over the condensation running down the side, and drank it back greedily.
After that pint, he had another. And after that, his tongue was loosened enough to open up to her about their break-up.
“I wanted to talk to you,” he said. “About that awful day when we broke up. It has haunted me ever since.”
Aha! Sasha thought. So there was a reason for his visit, and this was it. Perhaps he wanted to apologise; to tell her that it was all a mistake, that he’d missed her every single day.
“Denise and I are on a break at the moment,” he said. “There’s stuff going on and she asked me to move out. I’m living at my mum’s.”
Ah, I see. So, single now, then? Sasha thought. Was this really him coming back again? Had he realised that he couldn’t love anyone but her after all?
“To be honest, one of the problems that we’re having is you.”
“Me?” Sasha gulped.
“Yes. She knows I’m not quite over you yet.”
Sasha couldn’t believe her ears. Was this really happening after all this time?
“I’ve said your name a few times by accident. I’ve woken up in the middle of the night calling your name. She’s seen your name flash up on my phone a few times.”
Oh my God. Really?
Sasha could hardly believe her ears. After months of pining, wondering, thinking, this was actually happening. He was telling her that he still loved her.
He looked so sad, then. So lost. As though all the hurt and pain of the break-up two years ago was still very much present today.
“Do you want a hug?” Sasha offered. He nodded.
Sasha went over to sit beside him and gave him a hug. It was warm; comforting, surreal. Were they really so physically close, after months of distance?
And then the strangest, yet most natural thing happened. His face found its way down to hers and kissed her.
It was a delicious kiss. Soft, warm, passionate, familiar, different; all at the same time. When they broke away, he smiled. “Oh my God, I’m so turned on,” he admitted.
Sasha giggled. And then he kissed her again; more passionately this time, until they were full-on snogging right there in the middle of the fancy hotel bar on the plush comfy sofas. The waiter busied himself at their table,
loudly clattering plates, his face a storm of thunder. He might as well have been saying, ‘Get a room!’
“I want to come back home with you,” Kirk said, when the waiter had left. Sasha gulped. Really? He really was landing on her doorstep. Literally. “Okay,” Sasha agreed.
Kirk’s eyes widened. “Really? You’ll really let me go home with you?”
Sasha looked at him simply, shrugging her shoulders with ease. “Yeah.” Wasn’t this what she had pined for, for months? Wasn’t this what she wanted? For him to turn up on the doorstep and admit it was all a horrible mistake and ask to get back with her?
“Hold on – let’s talk about this.” Kirk held his hand out. “Are you absolutely sure about this? I mean, I don’t know what’s happening here. I’ve had a few drinks. I’m coming back to yours. And then when I leave the next day, are you going to be in bits? Are you going to regret it?”
But Sasha wasn’t thinking about that. All Sasha was thinking about was how he was sitting beside her, telling her that he still thought about her. Telling her that he called out her name in the middle of the night. Kissing her, getting horny immediately over her, wanting to take her home. It was like a dream come true. After months of drought, it was like an overflowing waterfall.
“I’m sure,” Sasha nodded. And soon they were hand in hand, leaving the hotel and the disgruntled waiter, dashing into the nearest Tesco to get wine and jumping into a taxi to head home.
Chapter Seventeen
When they stepped out of the taxi and shut the door behind them, Kirk stood still, looking at Sasha’s front door. Perhaps it was the beer he’d drunk; perhaps it was the length of time since he’d last seen her place, but he was dramatic in his response.
“My God,” he gasped. “The green door.” Sasha smiled, “Yes, the green door.”
“Do you know how many times I’ve looked at this on Google maps?” he confessed. Sasha could hardly believe her ears. What? Really? He had been sitting at his computer, typing her address into Google maps, going on a virtual trip down memory lane? She could hardly believe it. After all those months when there was no contact; nothing, emptiness, little had she known that he was stalking her, hanging around outside her front door.
The Year of No Rules Page 8